Paint It Black....NOT

Another one of my totally out of character pastel experiments. I did this by stretching those halloween cobwebby things over a sheet of hot press water color paper, wetting it, and then spraying color and letting it run down the webs. I think I should have used more webbies. This makes one hell of a mess. Tipping the paper, which was secured to a fiber board, made lots of little puddles of paint on my work space. Best done outside, I would think.

And then there were four.....

Seems like three were not enough. Last weekend, a friend and I became co-conspirators on another horse. Jessie. An appaloosa, dead broke, bomb proof and just a joy to ride. So good, she doesn't even need a bit, I ride her in a halter and a rope for reins. Yahoo. So my art is on hold for awhile, while I spend frigid hours at the barn, spoiling her with attention. Mark, my partner in crime on this one, can ride her western, while I deal with her under an english saddle. My old man thinks I am totally insane, but as always, lets me make my own deals, and then lets me handle the consequences, be they good or bad. But these will be good ones. Now, where is my Mountain cd? Seems I am in the mood for Leslie West and Theme From An Imaginary Western.

Music to inspire the muse

There is a direct connection between what music I am listening to and what my paintings turn out to be. Lovely, soft, introspective music inspires lovely, soft, introspective paintings. Rock produces more dramatic things...more color, more movement, more fun (in my opinion). The blues churn out something in between. I don't listen to rap or, GODDESS FORBID, disco....( I had to live thru that era, and am NOT going back). I don't have much of a selection of country music either, and classical, well, that would put me to sleep.

I want to paint this morning. Clapton, the Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd and to continue the retro theme, maybe some Cars. I heard Let The Good Times Roll yesterday, and it's still tripping thru my head.

I know, its only rock and roll.....

There is unrest in the forest

I don't know where this came from, but I know I like the idea of cutting something up and putting it on something else. Now, if I could only find my RUSH cd, my morning would be complete.

"But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade....."

Damn. This takes me back to memories of a certain time, a certain young man, and a summer spent in lust. I think I might have even loved him.

Lessons learned #1

Lesson number one: I can not, should not, and will not use a warm palatte anymore. The neutrals...brown, beige, grey, gold, copper...(I consider metallics neutrals)...fine choices. The cool blues and purples and greens, good to go. I guess this was one of the things I would have learned if I had concentrated more in art classes.

I also know that trying to finish one piece of anything in one day is not an option. So new game plan...art every 3 or 4 days.

Why I never finished art school

The reason for this post will become apparent in those that follow. I never finished art school. Back in the 70's (ahem) I went directly from high school to college. The Art Institute of Atlanta. No summer vacation, no last 3 months of debauchery before I embarked on what was to be the education necessary to pursue my chosen career. I was 18, and quickly discovered why my college town was called Hot'Lanta. I was legal to drink in the state of Georgia, and conveniently hooked up with a bartender. Roy and I had a blast, but my studies suffered horribly. Daddy's money spent real good down there. After the first year, it was very apparent that I did not have the dedication, determination, or motivation to stay focused on anything but parties, southern rock and the boys from Georgia Tech. My parents seemed relieved when I told them I wanted to come home, find a job, and put my studies on hold. So that is what I did. I financed my lifestyle doing a number of things...working retail, which I HATED, and repossessing cars, which I LOVED. But my time in college was not all a waste. I got to meet Greg Allman (Duane was already dead), learned how to do shots of Jack Daniels, and realized the necessity of checking your shoes before you left the ladies room. Somewhere, hidden deep in a memory I would rather repress, there is an image of me strolling out of a bar bathroom in the Underground, with at least 4 feet of toilet paper trailing behind me on the floor. Oh those wacky college days.

A long time coming....

OK kids, time to get back with the program here. No looking back, no missing things that are not there anymore. Over the past few weeks, I have learned that unless I keep myself totally balanced nothing good comes my way. A lesson learned the hard way. And balance comes from time with the horses, time in my studio, and indulging in things that perhaps only I can see the benefit from. I took an idea from another blog, and am doing Art Every Day. Each day, SOMETHING MUST come out of my studio, creative wise. It does not matter what it is, as long as it is finished. Right now, this is about quantity, and not quality. I revel in my successes, and learn from my mistakes. So far, the mistakes have not been too costly. In my art, or my other pursuits.